The Imperius Curse
by Meatball
Summary: Was Snape a Death Eater by choice, or was it the Imperius Curse? Please R&R! Completed fic.


Title: The Imperius Curse  
Author: Meatball  
Rating: PG13  
Disclaimer: I ain't making no coin from this, nohow.  
Summary: Some former death eaters claimed to be operating under the Imperius Curse. Maybe they were...and maybe Snape was one of them.   
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
Severus Snape thought he was going to throw up.  
  
He'd been running for what seemed to be hours, although in reality, he had no idea how long he'd been running, or how far he had run. He just knew that he couldn't stop now.  
  
Did Voldemort know, he wondered? Did he know?  
  
Around Snape, people swerved to avoid what they thought was a crazy man on the street. Blasted London streets, always crowded. No place to hide, no place to run...  
  
Snape bent over double, gasping and coughing. He was going to throw up, right here on the street. He knew it. Half-blindly, he stumbled to the small, decrepit little shop that was invisible to the thousands of muggles that passed it, day in and day out.   
  
"Eh, now, what's this?" Tom the barkeep made his way over to Snape, a look of concern on his weathered face. "Eh, boy...what's wrong?"  
  
"Voldemort," whispered Snape, dizzily. He couldn't seem to straighten up. "After me...Imperius Curse...broke free..." He sunk to his knees, retching. After that, he knew only darkness.  
  
~~~  
  
"Didn't know what else to do with him, Perfessor. Boy seemed to think that You-Know-Who was after him...kept mumblin' somethin' about the Imperius Curse..."  
  
"You did well to contact me, Tom." Dimly, Snape heard a familiar voice, as he struggled to open his eyes. He was exhausted, and still faintly nauseous. Had he really puked all over The Leaky Cauldron's floor, or was that his imagination? "Leave him with me, now. I'll look after him. Could we have some tea, please?"  
  
"Aye, some tea and some biscuits, too, Perfessor. Kid emptied his guts all over me floor, he's probably a bit hungry now."  
  
Snape cringed at the words, but slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the bright sunlight coming in through the dusty windows. Still daylight, then. He hadn't been unconscious long.  
  
"How are you, Severus?"   
  
"Pro...Professor Dumbledore..."  
  
"Yes, Severus. Can you sit up?"  
  
With quite a bit of assistance from Dumbledore, Snape managed to sit up, somewhat shakily, and looked around him. He appeared to be in one of the rooms that Tom rented out to customers. It was cozy, and formal, all at the same time. He sat, silently, until there was a small knock on the door.  
  
"Tea..." said Dumbledore, as a tray floated into the room. He poured a cup for Snape, and literally had to press it into the young man's hands and guide it to his lips before Snape would drink. He frowned a little, as Snape broke off, coughing. After a few minutes, however, Snape had drunk two cups of tea, and a bit of colour was coming back into his cheeks.  
  
Dumbledore finished his own cup, his eyes on Severus the whole time. He hadn't seen the boy in over two years. Snape did not look well. He'd lost weight, weight that he could not afford to lose. His long, dark hair hung lankly to his bony shoulders, and his eyes...  
  
Albus sighed sadly. Snape's eyes, once alert and fairly snapping with his formidable intelligence, now looked blank and empty. Oh, Severus, he thought, what in Merlin's name have you been doing with yourself? He reached out, and squeezed the thin hand resting on the blankets.  
  
Snape started at the unexpected contact, and his eyes flew up to meet Dumbledore's. "Professor?"  
  
"Severus. I believe you have something that you wish to tell me?"  
  
~~~  
  
Much later, Snape paused, exhausted. Dumbledore poured him another cup of tea. With a tap of his wand -- "Warmio!" -- the tea began to steam faintly. Gratefully, Snape took a long sip.  
  
He was exhausted. He couldn't remember talking so much at one time, but there had been much to tell Dumbledore -- his work as a Death Eater, the work of others, the potions that he had brewed for Voldemort (Dumbledore remembered that Snape had been an exemplary Potions student), the sudden snap back to reality earlier that morning when somehow, Voldemort's hold over him, and the other Death Eaters, had faltered.   
  
What had caused the Imperius Curse's hold to slip? He knew that Voldemort was undergoing several procedures -- unholy, unspeakable things -- to make himself even more powerful, immortal even. Could side effects from one of those have affected Voldemort's powers, however briefly?   
  
Snape picked up one of the biscuits that Tom had sent with the tea, and nibbled tentatively. Dumbledore had excused himself, was standing in the hallway conferring with an Auror, and someone from the Ministry.  
  
Surely...his hand trembled a little, spilling some crumbs on the blanket. Surely they wouldn't use the Avada Kedavera curse on him? He hadn't been acting of his own free will. Try and prove it, though, he thought to himself, nervously. There was no way to prove it...that was the problem. His stomach churned again, and he hastily dropped the biscuit back on the tray. Perhaps they would send him to Azkaban? Severus closed his eyes in fear. I'm only twenty years old, his mind screamed. I didn't mean to hurt anyone! I didn't mean to...  
  
His eyes snapped open as the door opened, and he steeled his expression in order to hide the terror coursing through him.   
  
"...don't see the need for it, frankly, gentlemen..."  
  
"...but Albus, don't you understand? He's a Death Eater! It's only right..."  
  
The third man that entered the room stood and stared coldly at Snape. One icy blue eye glared at him. The other eye rolled around in the man's scarred head. Snape had no idea who this man was, but he scared the crap out of him, no two ways about it. This man was no one to mess around with.  
  
"Severus."  
  
Snape blinked, surprised at the gentleness in Dumbledore's tone. "Ye...yes, Professor?"  
  
He heard the third man's indrawn breath, and noticed the surprise upon the man's face. Ferris Figg, he thought distractedly, Deputy Minister of Magic. He recognized the man from the Daily Prophet.   
  
"Albus..."  
  
"Yes, Ferris?"  
  
"He's...he's..." Figg swung around and glared at Dumbledore. "Is this some kind of joke? Are you telling me that this teenager is a Death Eater?" He gestured back at Snape. "He's just a kid! I've got kids older than him! And this nonsense about the Imperius Curse..."  
  
Snape shuddered, and he drew his knees up to his chin. He knew it. They were going to kill him. Or even worse...  
  
"...Azkaban. Can you imagine? I can't send a child to prison!"  
  
"Precisely what I am trying to tell you, Ferris. I believe that my idea has more merit."  
  
The man with the weird eye smiled. At least, Snape assumed it was a smile. It didn't look very friendly. The man's voice matched his appearance, when he spoke.   
  
"Dumbledore's right, Figg." The scarred stranger growled. "I say let's go with Dumbledore's idea. Then, if the little bastard don't get himself killed in action, we can send him to prison afterwards. Worth a try, anyhow."  
  
"Not quite, Alastor." Dumbledore's voice was firm. He turned to face Snape, and addressed him. "Severus, I believe we have a proposal for you."  
  
"Yes, Professor?" He was not surprised that his voice wavered. His whole body was trembling.  
  
"You, Severus have confessed to me. And I, for the record, believe you about having been under the Imperius Curse." Dumbledore shot a look towards Ferris Figg, who looked skeptical.  
  
"You have two possible fates, Severus. Death..." He paused, alarmed at the pallor of Snape's skin. "Azkaban..."  
  
"However," he continued, "I have suggested a third option. Redemption."  
  
Snape looked at Dumbledore, astonished. "What?"  
  
"You can," Dumbledore said, sitting on the edge of Snape's bed, "Redeem yourself. Work as a spy for us. From what you have told me, it is unlikely that Voldemort is aware of your defection."  
  
"But...the Imperius Curse..."  
  
"I'll teach you ways around that, kid." The man called Alastor fixed Snape with a hard look. "There are ways."  
  
"But...if we succeed, and get rid of Voldemort..."  
  
"Then you get to live. Throw you in Azkaban, of course, but ..."  
  
"So it's best if I do 'die in action', right?" Snape surprised himself by speaking up to the creepy Auror.  
  
"Suit yourself, sonny."  
  
"Actually, I have an idea as to that..."  
  
Ferris Figg broke off his intent stare at Snape, and turned towards Dumbledore, a resigned look on his face. "I thought you would, Albus."  
  
"I wish to have custody of Severus, if he survives this...this war..."  
  
"Come on, Dumbledore..." The Auror looked shocked.  
  
"Severus? How about it?"  
  
"Custody?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at the youngster. "There you have it, Ferris. Snape will work as a spy for us, and afterwards, he will be under my supervision at Hogwart's. Safe as can be."  
  
Snape didn't recall agreeing to this; in fact, he was starting to wonder if it was too late to ask for the death penalty. Ferris Figg didn't look entirely convinced, either. But it was the Auror that scared him the most.  
  
"You, boy," he said, standing directly beside Snape, and grabbing a handful of Snape's hair, painfully tilting his head back to look up at him.  
  
"Ouch..."  
  
"Hear me, boy. You've got one hell of a lucky break here. Me, I'd finish you off in a flash of green light, boy. But it ain't my call, apparently. So hear me now."  
  
The Auror leaned in closer, both his eyes fixed intently on Snape's frightened dark ones. "You survive all this, and you don't go to jail, fine. That's fine, I don't care. But if you ever...and I mean EVER...step one foot out of line, for the rest of your life, you miserable, stinking, cowardly little killer... I will deal with you personally. And I can guaran-damn-tee you, sonny, you will wish that you'd never been born. Got that? GOT THAT??"  
  
Snape nodded, as much as he could with his hair held in such a tight vise. "Ye...yes..."  
  
"Good. Don't you forget it. And that's a promise from Mad-Eye Moody, sonny. That is a promise." He released Snape's hair, and turned away in disgust. "He's all yours, Albus."  
  
With a gentle smile, Dumbledore nodded. Snape just closed his eyes. What the hell have I gotten myself into?  
  
~~~  
  
Fifteen years later.  
  
  
  
"Our...new...celebrity." Snape's quiet voice filled the dungeon, and his eyes lingered resentfully on young Potter.   
  
My new responsibility.  
  
~~~ 


End file.
